I always have a habit of making things feel really awkward. Take today for example: everyone was having a fine and dandy Graphic Design lesson, and it was all going well – Miss was explaining something, and told us that although it was hard, we’d get it, and that everyone finds it hard and uncomfortable at first, which I replied to ‘Yeah, just like sex’. Insert some Maddielene McCann and Baby P jokes right here, and we’ve got ourselves a pretty dam awkward event; like when everyone found out that Micky off The Bill got raped, by a man.

I was at the doctors the other day, and for whatever reason, I was screaming behind a curtain while the doctor did her job. This job in my mind was to try her dam best to turn me on. And the only thing which hindered her scheme, was the fact my mother, being the intrusive and down right meddeling person she is, was behind the curting, asking, ’something wrong, son?’. ‘Something wrong? If there wasn’t, then why would I be screaming? God sake, woman, haven’t you got somewhere better to be? Like not in a room with your son and a very attractive doctor who happened to be called Dr. Chex, and happended to be rubbing up my leg as I attempted not to get a boner’, I thought to myself. My attempt was gracious, I thought, and I hope she noticed – I mean I’m sure she did; with ‘a young man’ as large as mine, and an ego to match, how couldn’t she? Yeah, I think she knew. I think she felt the connection between us – the illicit, sexual and quite frankly, unheard of connection; a connection that she may or may have known about, but a connection nontheless – which will inevitbly result in her further knowledge of the human anatomy, without the need for medical education and tutoring. Kanye West calls it ‘welcome to hearbreak’; I call it ‘Welcome to my cock’.

Being the chauvinistic, self-righteous aristocrat I am; I felt it necessary to point out most, if not all, the imperfections in all of you, especially fat people as they are at the bottom of the food chain – just behind pedophiles and George Lucas.

I understand that in my philosophical food chain people whom aren’t on the same level as someone such as myself won’t completely understand the concept of my philosophy, and therefor my brilliance. Because of this, I thought I’d explain it in Lehman’s terms:

Fat people cannot claimed to be discriminated against in my view; they are who they are because of who they are. They can change at any point, yet they choose not to. It’s not the same as a more common discrimination such as racism because in that instance the race in which is being discriminated against cannot help who they are; they are born with it, it’s hereditary. Fat people, however, can change and should do so – they’re an eye sore and just a disgrace to the modern western world. It’s not like we need fat people bringing our credibility down even further – we already have a black president on the way and an economy to match.

Not that I’m saying that having a black president would be a bad thing, nor am I comparing being black to the awful mess which is the credit crunch because as we know: being black isn’t bad, it’s good; you get welfare checks and big penis’s. That is, of course, if you are from America.

I’m not even going to try to worm out of what I just said and claim that it was supposed to be in a metaphorical sense, because that would still make it incredibly rude and distasteful. Just like Jonathan Ross, I’d like to apologize for not only being more annoying than the Haribo advert with those two little children pretending to be the parents of their parents (confusing if you’re a retard, eh?) and having a fucking lisp, but also for being inappropriate and unpleasant. I understand that my act of grose impertinence may have caused offense, and because of this, I offer my full and sincere apology. Remember what an old friend of mine once said: I’m in it for the lulz.

Please don’t think that myself being the presumptuous cock I am would in any way make me want to inflate my ego further by being a egotistical wanker and writing a blog about my dislike for fat people, broadcasting it on an online forum for the world to see. That just isn’t me.

And why isn’t that me? Why wouldn’t I be a presumptuous cock and write to publicly undermine people of the larger variety without reason? That isn’t me because I do have reason; I have a logical philosophy and concept which do-gooder philanthropist just wouldn’t understand because they are ignorant and blind to see the truth. Therefor if there any reading now, I ask you to either go back to the De-Nazified camp in which you came from, and begin to rub your dirty emasculine left-wing balls all over any concealable race you can think of – race’s and people of whom don’t even like you being the do-gooder you are because most of the time you cause no good and instead incite even more hate on the people you attempt to help.

Take Muslims for example, the majority of white people in Britain dislike Muslims because of what white people do to ‘help’ them. They try and benefit their lives and as a result don’t benefit them whatsoever because it causes more grieve and anguish because white people get annoyed at it, even though it’s the Muslims themselves whom are fine with how things are in Britain, and do not want change.

Unlike being a racist or a philanthropist, I can give a view on something without being indoctrinated into a way of thinking by mass-media and corporate advertising; many people with weak minds, people who accept the life they are born into and the herd-behavior which comes with it will not have this capability and will therefor either go through life with just not caring, not having an opinion on something, or do the opposite of everything I stand for – for what real people stand for – and be a no good politically correct wanker whom will continue to support the decline of this once great country with their way of thinking.

This could possibly be the most random and unorganized rant I’ve ever wrote; forgive me, I’m tired.

Parents of children whom attend a primary school in Las Vegas, Nevada, were shocked this week when famous pop-star, and alleged child abuser, Michael Jackson, moved just meters across the road from a primary school which teaches children aged 4-13.

What I don’t understand is their upset. Yes, he may of stuck his finger in a few childrens’ bum holes over the years, but who hasn’t? If anything their tears should be tears of joy and not distress – after all, he’s going to be doing them a favor: making sure those pesty little children never try and truant again. With MJ on duty, no one’s getting past those school gates! Although, in all fairness, no one ever would anyways considering those children are American, and therefor are born overweight, resulting in the walk across the road to MJ’s house being the equivalent to running up a hill naked with nothing but a shower cap and roller blades on.

How could you ever get mad at his face anyways? Especially if you are a homosexual, which where I’m from are referred to as ‘Manchester United fans’. I mean for god’s sake, look at him! The man’s got a freaking bum on his face. His soft, exuberant eyes open up a world of warmth of love in an avuncular manner which makes not only homosexual fans love him for the two-way entry for anal, but also for people whom lacked that fatherly figure when they were children; most notable of which include famous serial killers such as Paul O’Grady and Davina McCall.

To end of this lovely insightful blog – after a long week away – I thought I’d end with this: I always find things like this a bit of a coo; something to distract the public from the bigger picture; such as Gordon Browns’ encurbered physique and thighs.

When you see a face like the one above – a face that’s seen two world wars and one failed Indiana Jones movie – it makes your wonder what his tired, drained eyes have seen in his time, and what he’d hope to see in his final passing days.

Obviously considering his age (93), we can’t even begin to imagine the knowledge and exprience he’s gained over the years, especially after going through the blood and anguish of world war one and two. But what else has this poor old codger been through?

The usual look on his face – the look that says ‘hey, my names Fabio Capello, and despite what I’ve seen in my many days on Earth, despite what I’ve learned, nothing could prepare me for what I saw on February 28th, 1987 – both of my parents fornication in numerous positions (including ‘the crab’) – is the face of our beloved nation, England.

‘This look’ is a misleading look. It’s a stern, dominant stare which says ‘we don’t take shit’ – and if only the F.A would take into account this flaw with the face of our manager, and the state of border control thanks to the Labour party, we wouldn’t have this ‘flaw’, and therefor our great nation would not be misleading and when foreigners look to come to our country in hope for a nice British holiday (as seen on Walkers adverts) they wouldn’t be under the impression that England is a place where paki’s don’t exist, and their presence is unheard of.

In a sense, our nation is like Brenda and Audrey out of the Bounty kitchen roll adverts – from a young age, whilst growing up with these adverts, you come to begin a likeness for these kinds of women – a unhealthy likeness. A likeness which pretty much decide the rest of your life for you, with regards to moving to Thailand and fucking countless he-shes which eventually seals in stone, your life-time ticket to the sex offenders list.

Ah, sweet justice. Sweet random rants that don’t make sense.

I was on Michelle McManus’s website last night (don’t ask me why), and I came across this:

“I’ve also co-written a song with the fabulous Scottish artist Horse Macdonald called ‘Safe’ which will feature on her forthcoming album.

I’ve been out and about performing at various venues up and down the country including the one and only CC Blooms in Edinburgh and the outrageous The Club in Stoke – what a night out that was!”,

- Michelle McManus.

Where do I begin with picking this washed up celeb to pieces? Let’s start with the song she’s co-written with some random drunken Scottish person, entitled ’safe’.

Why ‘o why would you do that to yourself Michelle? You must know by now you should never get involved in anything which could be linked to a joke about your weight, i.e any concealable thing which has ever existed.

Tell me, Michelle, how do I know my cheese burger is safe? How do I know that after all this time without seeing you in the newspaper, you wont just sneak up on me and take it?

No wait. I’m just being silly now – you could never sneak up on me – I’d feel the ground tremble beneath your encumbered, cellulite infested thighs.

Further more, how have you been ‘up and down the country’? That’s a bit of an absurd claim to make considering you get out of breath while having a shit or scratching your minge, don’t you think?

Love J.S. x

G.W Bush: "We are in debt? O RLY?!".

What has 13 digits, weighs 2 tonnes and is made out of reinforced steel? Besides the scales used to measure Michelle McManus’s weight – the US debt clock.

‘Until last month, the clock had enough digits to measure US debt levels’, says BBC news.

Excuse me for asking – but I think it’s important someone did – how the fuck can you run out of numbers? Furthermore, when you are so badly in debt, why spend money replacing the existing clock with a new one with more digits? Sorry, I fail to see the logic in that, and I’m sure the majority of my readers do, too.

The United States of Americas’ logic is more flawed than a Asian without a corner shop.

Good night.

Can’t be arsed to write anything tonight due to ‘troubles’ at home.

I leave you with a song that I listen to whenever feeling down, it’s truely beautiful:

..And what better topic to talk about then people in my class; people whom are so unfunny and unoriginal, it actually pains me to listen to their failed attempts. This girl – ‘the unattractive slag’, to be more precise – just sits there, listening to peoples’ jokes and once all the laughter and banter has died down, she feels the need to reiterate what has previously been said. The worse thing about it isn’t actually her failed attempt at life, it’s more so the people in my class that actually laugh with her, or at her – either way, I think it’s a waist of energy and effort on my classmates part, therefore they should cease at once and just carry on with their work – ignoring the nuances, and council house trash around them.

I would ask this ’slag’ to be quiet, although that would be a waste of time – it would be like a underage school girl for her virginity back from a Mexican rapist – it just isn’t going to happen.

Yesterday, I was reading a wordpress blog about the new South Park episode, The China Problem, and being the Eric Cartman fanatic I am, I felt ablidged to read it.

Basically, the latest episode is about Steven Spielberg and George Lucas raping Indiana Jones. The author of the blog, whom previously stated that he’s a fan of the South Park series and it’s over the top jokes and humor, claimed that South Park ‘had pushed the boundaries of comedy’ and ‘had gone too far’.

How can someone be so hypercritical and find every South Park episode – which makes fun of far worse things than rape – and then claim that it’s ‘gone to far’. Wow, talk about moronic. People these days are so ignorant and bland; they go along with what they read in the media and then change their view in favor of the masses and popular opinion – quite pathetic really, especially when they try and pass off what they are saying as their opinion, and not that of someone else.

If you find something that is potentially offensive funny, don’t portray double standards and then claim that something else is not funny, and is crude – especially if that ’something’ is far less offensive and disgusting then previous things you’ve found funny.

latest episode, head over to: http://stansdad.com/